The Dark Man's Serenity
by Roland Farqueson
Summary: Preacher has left England and everthing that has happened to him in search of a life else where, will America hold what he is looking for? Readers may wish to read the first story "Finding Serenity", reviews would be welcome.
1. Chapter 1: The Dark Man

Chapter 1; The Dark Man Chapter 1; The Dark Man

The beach was now quiet, save for the odd birdsong from the outlying trees. The only sound that could be heard was the steady lapping of the ocean at the shore. Had any one been around looking out to the sea, they would have seen the foggy outline of a small seafaring vessel making it's way slowly towards the shore. It's engine was putting away as it was slowly down. The lone driver could obviously see the shore and was slowing down.

The beach had been quiet for many years now, now children running in and out of the surf. No parents talking, but keeping a wary eye on the children. No day visitors just getting some quiet from the city. Now all that remained was a solitary corpse lying face down in the sand. The body should have long since decayed, but unseen events had kept it at a stable barely working rate.

Just the slow sound of the approaching boat, and the quiet lap of the shore. Eventually the boat slowly began to rise as its bow crunched up onto the silvery sand. It pushed it's was up the beach while its engine was still in the water. However the strain put on the old boat was too much and the engine died with a loud bang followed by a slow whine like an old dog dreaming in its sleep. There was a pause and some additional clunks came from the boat.

Then suddenly a dark figure leapt over the brow of the boat and landed into a crouch on the sand. He looked up at his surroundings quickly. He wore all black, he wore what appeared to be a ripped t-shirt. Around his dark figure was a cloak, it was huge and ragged, it covered his skinny but muscular body. The end of the cloak was frayed as though it had been ripped and snagged over long periods of time. His legs were clad in some black combat trousers, or what were once combat trousers, they had been bound with black cloth in certain points. His boots were old, any one around may have noted they were in medieval in appearance. In fact his whole appearance may be likened to a medieval assassin, or spy. His cloak covered the bottom part of his face, leaving his eyes visible and a bit of his nose. His right eye bore a scar from the top by his eyebrow down his right cheek. The eye remained untouched and scanned the beach vigilantly.

Suddenly the corpse sprang to life, it raised itself up on it's arms and looked dead at the dark man. Its mouth hung open, almost in amazement. However something wasn't right with the look in its eyes. From the hanging mouth it let out a primeval guttural roar. It stood up whilst moving as quick as it could towards the dark man.

The dark man saw the movement and expected it, his hand moved to his hips, where two large revolvers hung. Within an instant his hand had pulled out a gun and a shot fired from its goliath barrel, smashing into the corpses skull. It's brains spayed over the beach.

The dark man stood up slowly, expecting the sounds of footsteps out of the fog at any moment. His scarred hand returned the revolver slowly. His fingernails looked as though they had been removed once in the past. The scars around them looked as though they were incredibly painful. However he seemed unbothered by them. Round his wrists were many bracelets and symbols of the man's faith. His guns had symbols carved into them. Many of them recognisable to any Christian of the past, along with those on his wrist.

He gathered his surroundings once more and then reached to a pouch on his belt and pulled out a compass, he looked around and then found north and decided to head that way. He clambered back onto his boat to retrieve a rucksack, and a water flask. He attached it to his belt. Then jumping back off the boat he put one foot in front of the other and headed northwards.

He didn't look back at the boat; it had fulfilled its purpose and had brought him across the Atlantic Ocean. Across from his old home, from his old friends, his dead friends. He was the only one left. Each death he had taken and bore slowly. Each had saddened him. He had prayed for them all. He had fought for them all, but mostly he had failed them all.

With God as his watcher, the man formerly know as Preacher, or Ben. Now the Dark Man headed northwards.


	2. Chapter 2: A New Journey

Chapter 2; Another Journey Chapter 2; Another Journey

The Dark Man made his way northwards from the beach. A long figure in on the horizon it, his pack on his back and his guns around his hips.

He'd landed at a place called Virginia Beach, he had no care for where he'd landed he was just looking for someone else, any one else.

He'd make do with a dog, or a cat for company this time. He'd been at sea for many weeks and was pretty sure at many points he would sink to a salty grave. However he'd made it. He was going to find some sort of transport soon if he could. He doubted that anything would work after all this time and he was no mechanic. Besides the roads were full of cars trying to escape the epidemic that had struck a few years ago.

He kept checking backwards encase any one, or anything was following him. His years of the battlefield and surviving the undead had kept his senses keen.

Coming up on his right was a sign that said Norfolk twenty miles. He frowned, wondering why the name Norfolk, then shook the thought away he was years late to name cities.

He decided that's where he would head. He knew it was a city but he didn't have much choice he'd have to be quiet and just try and avoid any contact with the undead. He wasn't sure how populated it would have been but he'd have to make do. Anything to try and find some more people.

With a sigh he continued along the road. After a while he came to a bar at the road side. He looked about seeing only cars beside and bloodstains. The place looked deserted. He needed some more food and perhaps this would be the place to find some. He relented his caution, thinking that if at least there was no food there would be a beer. He carefully laid down his pack on top of a disgusting looking car. Then took of his belt with it's pouches and the water tankard and laid them in the same place.

He advanced in a semi crouched towards the bar's door. He leaned up against the wall, next to the door and drew a gun then. He thummed the hammer back and then spinning he slammed the door open and scanned the room his gun leading his eyes. Nothing just cold dead silence, he went to move towards the bar then he heard a thud from above him. Like someone falling out of bed. It was followed by footsteps, which were above him and moved away from him, he heard the hollow slamming as it charged down the stairs. Then it burst into the bar from an unlocked door behind the bar. It was hideous, its mouth had been torn open along the cheek, so all the teeth were visible. One of its eyes appeared to have been bitten and hacked out of it's socket. The rest of its body was covered in unhealing scratches and gashes.

Ben eyed in curiously and as it had stopped to look at him briefly. Then as usual it charged at him, leaping for the bar. Instead Ben's revolver flamed to life, firing into his skull.

The action last probably five seconds, and Ben was long used to it. Calmly he kept his gun out and began to search the kitchen.

He was back on the road only ten minutes later, he'd found some stale biscuits and several tins of meat, and a tin of mixed fruit. Which he was now picking at whilst walking.

He was hoping that he would be able to find a motorbike soon he was tired of weaving between all these cars on foot. All the gaps he wondered through a bike would get through, or there was enough room at the side to drive by.

However he eat the fruit and concentrated on his new journey.


	3. Chapter 3:The Road

Chapter 3: The Road Chapter 3: The Road

Preacher walked slowly along the road, continuing to weave in and out between the cars. He could see the skyline of Norfolk in the far distance; he hated the thought of heading towards the city. However he had no way of getting around it. There'd be more ammo in the cities and more tinned food.

As he walked along he reached into his pocket of his trousers and pulled out an old mp3 player. It took batteries and had kept him from going insane on the weeks crossing the Atlantic, along with the collection of books he needed to finish in his pack. He considered listening to it as he walked along the road. He knew it was a bad idea though something could easily sneak up on him if he didn't stay vigilant

There was something that appealed to the dark man about the long road a constant journey but what he wanted more than anything was to find some companions. He'd settle for a talking dog at this stage.

He crossed pass several large American cars when he found a large motorbike that had skidded off the road, it was in a ditch and weeds were starting to grow over it.

Checking his surroundings and the empty fields surrounding him for any of the vagrant dead. He edged into the ditch and inspected the bike.

After around five minutes he established that there was little wrong with it. All that would be needed was a fresh battery. He could push it if he wanted to gain some speed, but he would need to find a hill and ride it down and when he got some decent speed he could pop the engine to life.

He struggled for the next few minutes and got it out of the ditch and onto the road. He got up right and gasping from the weight he then began to push it.

He didn't come across a decent sized hill the rest of that day, the sun was beginning to set in the sky when he realised he should probably get some sleep. He found a large four by four after a few minutes that and he opened the door to the back seats. There would be plenty of room to sleep if he lowered the back seats and slept across the trunk and seats.

He did this and the bike was outside waiting like a dormant lion. He set up camp. Out of his pack he pulled his small stove, some tinned meat, a pan, tinned fruit and a fork. He set up the stove and got the meat cooking in its gravy. He then with his legs swinging out of the car as he watched the sunset, he pulled out a book from his pack. "The Wastelands" by Stephen King, he loved the writer when he had time to read. Now he seemed to have all the time in the world and he was enjoying the set of books fantastically. It really did give him something to focus on and enjoy.

After a while his food was ready and he wolfed it down, nothing could stop him from eating now. He then continued to read whilst eating the tinned fruit. Once it was finished, he took a small rag out of his pack's side pocket and damped it with some water from his flask. Then cleaned the pan, he the packed it all back and continued to read the book until sleep grabbed him.

X

He was standing in the fortress, the walls we lined up with faces he knew, everyone was there. All of them staring at him fixated at him as though he was the most interesting thing on the planet. Neil, Sam, Angel, Hawk, Clint, Warren, Tractor, Mother, Smith, Axel, everyone he ever knew or saw out the corner of his eye.

As he looked closer he saw their eyes were red, as he reeled back they all let out the howl that he knew now so well. It was the sound of death, of desperation, of a hunger.

They all ran at him screaming and howling. He reached for his guns that weren't there.

Looking around for some sort of escape he saw none only the unrelenting jaws of the undead.

X

Startled Ben woke sitting bolt upright as though a springboard had awoken him. He sat there panting and gasping. He'd been using his cloak to keep him warm during the night and he was now covered in a cold sweat. He looked around to see morning was creeping in through the window and nothing else. With a sigh he decided it was time to head on.

A few hours later he was walking along the road pushing the motorbike with him. He wasn't moving as fast pushing the bike but he could pick up speed again when he reached a hill. Not that he was in a rush to get anywhere though. This country hadn't provided him with any hopes as of yet. He pushed on an ushered a prayer to himself as he moved.

At midday his prayers were answered he found a hill that was step enough and long enough to jump-start the bike. There were only one or two cars blocking his way but they were near the bottom and with luck he should have got the engine running by then.

He eyed the hill a moment longer making sure nothing would surprise him at any moment. The with a pause he grabbed the handlebars and pushed and ran as hard and as fast as he could down the hill. Charging head long down the road, when he had picked up enough speed, he jumped straddling the bike like a mechanical horse. He speed down the road still the cars coming closer and closer. The bottom of the hill approaching closer and closer. He kept his eye on the speedometer waiting for it to reach the thirty mark. It crept closer, 22…23…24…25, the bottom of the hill was extremely close now, 26…27…28…there was hardly any room before he would have to steer to avoid crashing, 29…the cars were in front of him now. Ben turned the bike and slammed on the accelerator, whilst pumping the clutch. The engine roared to life, coughing up probably year's worth of dirt out of its exhaust. He cleared the cars and let out a sound of joy, it had gone right for once. Stopping the bike and feeling it purr underneath him. He smiled as he looked back at the steep hill. Then he turned, thanking God, then headed down the road.


	4. Chapter 4: No Light To Guide Me

Chapter 4: No Light To Guide My Way Hom

The Dark Man chopped past a wreckage that had blocked the road, it had been a collision and a junction on the motorway, he shuck his head and thought it was highway here, something caught his eye in this wreckage it was a several year old body, nothing more than a skeleton now. It's face locked in an immortal grin, they had obviously died and not been bitten, otherwise they would still roam the earth. He paused the bike and shut the engine quiet. He hopped off of it and moved slowly over to the wreckage. Staring at the grin, the way the skeleton's arm hung out of the window made it look like it was beckoning him with one finger.

It was strange to him to see a body not running around trying to eat him, he'd seen bodies briefly whilst at Serenity, whilst putting bodies to rest being the closet thing they had to a priest.

He turned to leave, but something stopped him, he formed an image in his head. The body wanted peace. Although it seemed as though it wanted flesh like it's other dead counter parts. This one was wholly innocent.

He looked at it a moment then looked around. He saw plenty of rubble and old rocks at the side of the road. He looked up at the sky and saw he still had plenty of day left. He set to work firstly prying the door open to get at the body. Once he tugged the door away the body fell apart and the skull fell to his feet. He picked it up and moved to the side of the road and placed it to the dust. Then with each piece in turn he began to place the body as a whole together how they would lie if the man, or woman, was whole. After while it was done, and he began to pile stones on the body, entombing them by the side of the road. Once that was done he went to his pack and got out the bible. Then whilst holding his cross he prayed over the makeshift tomb.

As he did every friend and companion he had ever lost came to his mind and he cried. Silent and alone tears streamed down his face. Not caring what was behind him or if the undead were about to rush and attack him. Right now he'd let them.

Then as though nothing had ever happened he stood up and walked over to his bike and quickly drove off. Tears still streaming down his check he drove on


	5. Chapter 5: Blackness

Chapter 5: Blackness

Preacher as he now was in his head was back to the road. He'd slept uneasily again last night. The body had haunted his dream, as though the skeleton was still cursing him with its grin. As though it knew what was going to happen to him.

In his head he had to be as far away from that body as possible. He was on the verge of the city limits now. He had still yet to see any undead. It was strange but in his strange delusion he barely noticed.

Something was screaming in his head to slow down and to keep an eye out but he just ploughed on as though nothing could bother him. That blindness was about to become his downfall.

He turned past another car and exited the highway and entered a residential area. Still nothing reacted in his head. The sky scrapers loamed over the city and made it feel like the London he'd known as a boy growing up. Anything to distract him from the thoughts of that damn body.

He turned a corner into the next street and there, that was the spot where his mind's wondering and insanity had caught up on him. A blur screamed across the lawn to his right and ploughed into the side of his bike. Crushing the side of his leg into the bike. He screamed out in pain and the bike swerved and he tried to retain the balance as his hands wobbled and tried to force the bike in a straight line but it was no good. His mind reacted, albeit a little too late and he leapt from the bike. That was something he'd always been taught. If your going to crash on a bike leap of it otherwise it'll cause more damage to you. He landed knocking the wind out of himself and rolling across the ground, is cloak flailing around his body. His body screaming at the pain from his side where he'd landed.

He heard the bike crash into a nearby car as he'd just grabbed his wits back and struggled to look up at what had caused his accident. He looked up to have blood pouring into his eye. He was dizzy, he thought it was the spinning on the ground that had done it. He had no idea that his skull was damaged in the fall. Blood leaked out of his head and covered the right side of his head. He saw it then. A dog, it's mouth coated in dried blood, all the way along it's muzzle and up to it's eyes. It's empty desperate, hungry and red eyes.

He'd never seen anything like this, and infected dog, it was so scarred and disgusting it was hardly recognisable as an Alsatian as it had once been.

He reached for his gun as it charged, he brought up a revolver in a painful hand and tried to steady his shaking and blood coated hand. He fired a shot and it went high into the air.

It was almost on him then. His next shot left the barrel and slammed into it's leg tripping it over.

He tried again to aim before it recovered, but it was up empowered by it's painless body. It ran at him and there it was snapping at him. He managed to raise a hand up to it's throat and forced it away from his vulnerable face. He left pushed as hard as he could. But it pushed him and forced his body to scrap along the tarmac of the road. It Pushed him until his back was against a car. His arm now struggling to keep it back at bay. He shot his knee up and smacked it in the side of the head. It let out a whimper. From this and the blow knocked it's head aside. He managed to sit up. He lashed out with his foot again kicking the head. Then again he struck it, and again. Until it was basically at bay. He raised his revolver and fired another shot, missing yet again.

Then he could feel it, the darkness around his eyes, the stinging from his body. He was going to pass out from the pain. He had a few seconds before pain would condemn him to death and being infected. He tried to scream in desperation but nothing left his moth other than a groan. Then another shot was squeezed out of his finger. This went fired from the barrel home to it's intended target. Blowing its brains back into the rest of its body. It slumped down on his other leg. Like an obedient dog.

Then, blackness


	6. Chapter 6: Others

Chapter 6: Others

The first thing Preacher heard was birdsong. He'd been knocked out before and he knew that the first thing to return was the hearing. Many thought it was an urban myth that the first thing to return was the hearing, however it was not. Here he was lying down, a lot more comfortable than could possibly be on the asphalt of the road. He strained to open his eyes but only the right would respond. He saw a plain ceiling with a fan on top whirling in a hypnotic fashion. With gasp of pain he moved up a hand to find out if anything was blocking his left eye from opening. He felt a bandage covering it and let out a sigh of relief.

He knew that he must have been saved by that point. Someone, must have found him! Almost two years alone now someone had found him. After all that searching he let out a stinging tear of relief.

He heard a door opening and it closing.

Then a face looked over him he saw a young man. He had a certain amount of stubble on his face and looked as though he lived on coffee.

"Ah! You're awake." He said with a certain amount of joy.

Ben groaned in response.

"How you feeling?" he asked the mandatory question. "If you can speak that is?"

"Don't…let me drink…that much again" he squeezed out.

The man let out a hearty laugh. "I'm sure you're not a drinking man, my medieval friend, the soldiers who found you said you must have taken a tumble off your bike. That you'd obviously come across one of the hounds" he replied.

"Never…" he began but the man cut him off.

"Ah before you speak you're my patient, I want you to rest, I'll hear your story another time. For now sleep. You've done yourself some real damage. I'm Doctor Quinn Payne."

"Doc…" Ben was about to question

"Yes you heard me right, unfortunate naming for a doctor I know, sounds more like a video game character. However you can sleep now, you're safe now."

With that the doctor left the room leaving Ben to sleep.

X

Ben spent the next few hours it seemed in and out of consciousness, he occasionally had brief images of nurses and of the doctor. He also heard them speaking every so often.

X

Eventually he awoke again wondering where he was. Staring at the blank ceiling. He figured he must be in a hospital, but how all the hospitals must be out of use? Nothing of the old world remained any more. People had had to adapt to survive.

As though some higher power were watching down on him and was chuckling. A woman entered the room in a bright blue nurses outfit.

"Good morning sleepy head" she said.

"Morning" he croaked as cheerfully as he could.

She paused for a moment and looked at him, as though something in the one word sentence he said had offended her.

"you've got a strange accent." She said with a laugh

"I'm English" he replied.

"Well…I never met an English person not since the infection" She said cheerily.

He let out a small laugh, one that pained his chest and his head for some reason. He then groaned as he tried to ignore the pain.

"My head feels tight…have I got a bandage on there?" he asked groggily.

"Yes, you dam near cracked your head open. The soldiers who brought you in said you must have fallen off your ride. They also said you killed a hound with your bare heads by the way the body was lying on you, is that true?" she asked almost picturing the unnatural scene before her.

Again Ben couldn't help but laugh at the exaggerations people put on things. This was followed by more pain through his body.

"No they're lying…used a gun." He replied, amused but in pain.

"I don't know how you did it sir…but you're safe now…well as safe as you can be." The nurse told him, seeming relieved he hadn't killed the creature with his bare hands.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Why…you're in New York…Manhattan to be exact."

"New York…the city?" he gasped, confused. How could an entire city escape the infection, there was no way surely?

The nurse chuckled at him placing her hand over her mouth.

"Of course…what other place is called New York?"

"You…you all survived the infection?"

"Well most of us there were one or two quarantined sections but they were quickly dealt with."

"How did you survive?"

"We're an island mostly we were cut of by the water. The tunnels were caved in and the bridges were guarded by the army. We're safe"

"But…how…"

"Shush now you need you're rest, Mr…I'm sorry no one here knows your name?"

"It's Ben, just Ben is fine." He replied

"Well Ben, I think it's time you got some proper rest. We'll see you in the morning." She said picking up the chart from the foot of his bed and moving towards the door.

Ben could already feel his eyes falling shut for sleep.

The door closed and his eyes weren't far behind.


End file.
